igures near the base of
the cliff--a human figure held at bay by three hyaenodons, those
ferocious and blood-thirsty wild dogs of the Eocene. A fourth beast
lay dead or dying near by.

I couldn't be sure, looking down from above as I was; but yet I
trembled like a leaf in the intuitive belief that it was Lys, and my
judgment served to confirm my wild desire, for whoever it was carried
only a pistol, and thus had Lys been armed. The first wave of sudden
joy which surged through me was short-lived in the face of the
swift-following conviction that the one who fought below was already
doomed. Luck and only luck it must have been which had permitted that
first shot to lay low one of the savage creatures, for even such a
heavy weapon as my pistol is entirely inadequate against even the
lesser carnivora of Caspak. In a moment the three would charge! A
futile shot would but tend more greatly to enrage the one it chanced to
hit; and then the three would drag down the little human figure and
tear it to pieces.

And maybe it was Lys! My heart stood still at the thought, but mind
and muscle responded to the quick decision I was forced to make. There
was but a single hope--a single chance--and I took it. I raised my
rifle to my shoulder and took careful aim. It was a long shot, a
dangerous shot, for unless one is accustomed to it, shooting from a
considerable altitude is most deceptive work. There is, though,
something about marksmanship which is quite beyond all scientific laws.

Upon no other theory can I explain my marksmanship of that moment.
Three times my rifle spoke--three quick, short syllables of death. I
did not take conscious aim; and yet at each report a beast crumpled in
its tracks!

From my ledge to the base of the cliff is a matter of several thousand
feet of dangerous climbing; yet I venture to say that the first ape
from whose loins my line has descended never could have equaled the
speed with which I literally dropped down the face of that rugged
escarpment. The last two hundred feet is over a steep incline of loose
rubble to the valley bottom, and I had just reached the top of this
when there arose to my ears an agonized cry--"Bowen! Bowen! Quick, my
love, quick!"

I had been too much occupied with the dangers of the descent to glance
down toward the valley; but that cry which told me that it was indeed
Lys, and that she was again in danger, brought my eyes quickly upon her
in time to see a hairy,